


Interlude

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Stabbing, really quite a lot of stabbing, warmfuzzy stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: Nero's still just the new kid on the block. Dante knows what Vergil really needs.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】【VD】Interlude 插曲](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20962877) by [Fallenbell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallenbell/pseuds/Fallenbell)



> I don't even know what this is. Just some exploration of the aftermath of "Fatherly Guidance," I guess? Negotiating a new polyamorous relationship is complicated enough under ordinary circumstances, but add in abandonment issues, demonic dominance & submission, layers of incest, and the fact that everybody involved is probably a psychopath in clinical terms, and the whole thing's gonna get messy. Note the warning for violence, please, and remember that canonically both these guys get off on giving and receiving pain. Not as funny as the last one.

     Vergil actually arrived in the penthouse via the elevator.  Dante had expected him to fly up, or teleport via the Yamato, in his usual "extra" fashion.  The elevator was unexpectedly mundane.  Dante frowned, unsure of how to interpret this oddity.  He tried to visualize Vergil walking through a lobby.  Checking his mail.  Chatting with the doorman, _without_ killing him.  Yeah, all of that was just wrong.

     Three stalking steps into the unlighted apartment and Vergil stopped, putting a hand on his sword's sheath and pushing the blade up an inch or so with his thumb.  Dante smiled and stepped out of the shadows, amused as always by Vergil's airs.  But Vergil didn't move out of his ready stance, and after a moment, Dante realized it wasn't just an idle display.

     "Whoa, whoa," he said, raising his hands, even though he kept his gaze on Vergil's free hand.  That was always the one to worry about, whenever Vergil was in a murdery mood.  "It's just me."

     Vergil's posture didn't change.  He remained still, a silhouette in profile amid the dim chamber, eyes hidden in shadow.  "I didn't think you knew where I lived."

     "Followed you once, just to see if I could."  Dante grinned when Vergil bared his teeth at this.  The teeth, he could see.  "It's a nice place.  I'm jealous.  Demon-hunting never earned me this kind of money."

     Vergil's apartment was the topmost floor of an old hotel which had been renovated into luxury condos a few years back.  The penthouse was the hotel's old clock tower:  an open-room plan furnished minimally and tastefully, with a loft level  beneath the ancient clockwork mechanism, which still worked.  The heavy, steady tick of the old gears was remarkably soothing, Dante had noted while he waited.  Not at all the sort of thing he'd expected of his brother -- and yet entirely predictable, too.  Vergil's early life had been hellish chaos.  When he had a choice, Dante had noticed long ago, he made his surroundings as orderly as possible.

     And he hadn't relaxed since Dante stepped forward.  Dante sighed and turned to walk around the apartment.  "Checked you out a few weeks ago," he said, running his fingers along the surface of a pretty glass accent wall.  "An 'import' business?"  He laughed.  "Selling artifacts from the demon world.  And I imagine that now you've got new stock, after that last trip." 

     It had been remarkably easy for them to escape from the demon world this time, after they'd killed the Qliphoth and slaughtered their way through its endless swarms of parasites and symbiotes.  The Yamato could cut the way between worlds when bolstered with enough power -- and surprise surprise, Dante's sword, once the Rebellion and lately the Dante because he couldn't think of a better name for it, had given the Yamato plenty.  When they worked together...  But Dante put this thought aside.  Never wise to get sentimental about things between them.  Vergil was a predator, and always would be. 

     "And I'm guessing," Dante continued, "you sell those artifacts without caring whether they might possess or kill their buyers."  Dante had sold Devil Arms, of course, but never things like Qliphoth roots or Temen-ni-gru statues, though collectors offered kingly sums for them.  It wasn't about conscience, he told himself.  He just didn't want to deal with the angry relatives, or clean up the inevitable demonic plagues unleashed from the collectors' corpses.

     "If they were stupid enough to forego precautions," Vergil said, "then they deserve their fate.  My sales contracts indemnify me against lawsuits due to supernatural mishap."

     "Oh, seriously?  Cool.  I should try that."

     Vergil let out a sigh that was ever-so-faintly irritated.  "What do you want, Dante?"

     He could feel the intensity of Vergil's gaze on the center of his back, like a target.  Which was also pretty much exactly what he'd expected.  So Dante turned and leaned against a narrow, marble-topped kitchen island, abruptly tired of the threat display.  "Relax, damn it.  I'm not going to attack you in your own home.  That's more your speed than mine."

     He saw Vergil stiffen, just a little.  It was a sore point between them, and Dante knew that he probably shouldn't pick at it... but then he wasn't the one who'd walked into Nero's house and ripped the boy's arm off, was he?

     Still.  He knew the real sore point wasn't Nero's arm, but Nero himself.

     "Really just wanted to see how you were, Verg," he said finally, more softly.  "That's it."

     That, at last, seemed to make Vergil stand down from DEFCON KILL to just DEFCON THINK ABOUT IT.  He relaxed, visibly, and let the Yamato drop back into its sheath.  "Why would I be anything but fine, Dante?"

     "You tell me."  Dante grinned, stretching.  "Sounded like the kid had fun, at least.  But he's young and stupid, so I didn't know if he had the manners to, uh, reciprocate."  Dante shrugged.

     Vergil snorted.  "Sex isn't rocket science.  In case you haven't yet figured that out."  After a moment, he sighed and unbent enough to walk over to the kitchen island, too, bracing his hands against it.  There was a rack above the island from which shiny, beautiful cookware dangled.  It smelled like none of it had ever been used.  Dante couldn't really see Vergil boiling an egg, much less anything fancier.  He wondered why Vergil bothered with this facade of ordinary human life, then decided it was just a Vergil thing; he would never understand.

     "True.  But it's pretty clear you held back a lot."  Dante eyed him sidelong.  "Only one broken piece of furniture?  And you only stabbed him once?  You sure you weren't _bored_?"

     "Worried for him?"  Vergil's voice was neutral.  "Or for yourself?"

     Of course Vergil would never, ever, admit that anything might be wrong with _him_.  Dante smiled, even though he knew it would piss Vergil off.  That wasn't a bad thing.  He liked Vergil pissed off.

     "Maybe both.  Kid's a little starry-eyed, last I saw.  First _good_ fuck he's ever had; he's probably hoping for a repeat."  He cast a too-casual side-eye at Vergil.  "You shouldn't underestimate him, you know.  I made that mistake, once.  He's tougher than he looks -- "

     He was almost ready, when Vergil's expression tightened and the room blurred and suddenly he was up against the wall beside the compact chrome fridge, pinned there by Vergil's arm across his throat.  Instinct made him resist, despite the fact that he knew what it meant.  Still.  He tried to jostle the arm free, and Vergil snarled and pressed it in until Dante saw spots.  Only when Dante stopped fighting did he ease off.

     "And how would you know how tough he is?" Vergil said in a low, dangerous voice.

     Dante grinned, with an effort.  "You're the one who fucked him, Verg.  Not me.  Maybe I'm the one who should be jealous, here, don't you think?"  Vergil's eyes narrowed.  That part hadn't occurred to him, hmm?  "Maybe I don't like having a newer, younger model as competition, didn't you ever think of that?"  He licked his lips, and let his demon come a little off the leash.  "Maybe I'll kill him, and keep you all for myself."

     At this, however, Vergil instantly bared his teeth.  "He's mine."

     Oh-ho.  That was unexpected, though Dante was glad to hear it.  Better Vergil getting possessive than Vergil deciding that Nero was expendable.  Dante would take father-son bonding between those two however he could get it.  Still.  "And what am I, then?"

     Vergil leaned in, his eyes glowing blue.  "You're mine, too."

     Dante lifted a leg, sliding it up and around Vergil's.  "Greedy."

     Vergil's eyes drifted down, and after a moment a wicked smile curved his lips.  "You got that right."

     Vergil was ready for it, Dante knew, when Dante swept his legs and knocked his arm away.  Vergil simply shifted his weight to his other leg and shoulder-checked Dante instead.  They grappled for a moment, a flurry of hand-to-hand strikes, each of them trying to pin the other.  Dante was at a disadvantage because he'd started out pinned, but he made Vergil work for his dominance long enough that Vergil finally snarled and grabbed the Yamato and jabbed Dante in the gut with its hilt.

     This knocked the breath out of him.  "Not _fair_ ," Dante gasped, reflexively calling in his own sword and hitting Vergil in the face with its... hilt-talons?  Never knew what the hell to call them.  Vergil grunted with the blow -- and then his eyes blazed and his form glimmered blue and he pinned Dante to the wall again. 

     With the point of the Yamato.  Right through Dante's solar plexus.

     It hurt so immediately and blindingly that Dante couldn't help screaming.  His hand went limp on his own sword's hilt, nerveless, and the Dante flickered and vanished into the ether-realm, incapable of manifesting in this plane without his focused will.  The Yamato wasn't all the way through Dante, because Vergil probably didn't want to stain his fancy condo walls.  But it was deep enough that Dante couldn't do anything but stand there and groan, as Vergil worked the blade deeper.

     "Nothing between us has ever been _fair_ , Dante," Vergil breathed.  "I thought you would've known that by now."

     There was an echoing rumble in his voice; his demon was alive and at play beneath his skin.  Then he leaned closer, and the Yamato slid another inch into Dante's flesh.  Dante tried to writhe and couldn't; it hurt so much that he didn't want to move.  But he also didn't fight, though he had just enough strength left to do so.  He watched Vergil through narrowed eyes, coughing up blood between gasps -- and waited.

     Vergil smiled, all teeth.  Some of them were sharp.  "You think you know me," he breathed.  "You think, because I held back with Nero, that I need _you_ now.  That my demon craves your pain to make up for that gentleness."  When Dante frowned at him, confused and maybe a little afraid, Vergil leaned closer, and the blade inched deeper.  In Dante's ear, he whispered, "You're right.  But can you survive that much pain?"

     The blade was working its way in and up, inch by inch.  Dante knew when it split his diaphragm, because it got harder to breathe.  This worsened as it nicked one of his lungs, slowly curving its way up further into his ribcage.  It felt like dying -- but Dante groaned through bloodied lips and fought to stay conscious.  He did grab for Vergil's hand; pure fighter's reflex, that.  But he didn't fight.  It was hard to keep his eyes open, but he tried, though tears blurred his vision.

     Vergil's eyes roamed his face, drinking in every grimace.  "My God, you're beautiful," he whispered.  "I can't stop looking at you.  My own face, but the soul makes all the difference.  You're so _strong_ , Dante.  I used to think you undisciplined, weak, but I didn't understand you then."  He leaned in closer. The Yamato slid up several inches at this; Dante choked and then spat a spray of blood across Vergil's face.  Vergil didn't flinch, but his voice went softer, hushed, as if it bothered him to say the next words aloud.  "I want you so much that I want to kill you.  Can you understand that?  I need to _own_ you, one way or another."

     Dante couldn't talk.  The Yamato had at last pierced his heart; he had begun to gray out.  He would survive it, of course.  He'd had bigger things shoved through his heart.  But those intrusions were usually quick, and Vergil was bleeding him out.  In another minute, Dante wasn't going to be listening to any more soliloquies.

     He tried, though.  Because Vergil needed this.  He tried to be strong enough, for him.

     Vergil's lips brushed his.  And then -- thank Sparda -- he yanked the Yamato free, threw it aside, and cupped Dante's head between his hands.  The kiss was like nothing Vergil had ever done before; so many nights of teeth and tongues, but never _shared_ like this, tender like this, deep and soft and hot like this.  Then there was a blur and a flicker of blue fire and Dante found himself upstairs, lying on Vergil's big bed, with Vergil wrapped around him and kissing him as if the world would end when they parted.

     It was so good.  Dante's hands shook as he clutched at Vergil's shoulders, though that was partly weakness.  The wound was healing already, but even he would need time to recover from such a thing.  Vergil did not wait, sliding hands under Dante's shirt, skating them over skin hot and slick with blood, shoving his way between Dante's legs and grinding against him in a fever.  He was hard, and did not care that Dante was barely conscious.  Dante wanted it, though.  He did not mind being used like this -- not by Vergil.  And what was a little exsanguination, between brothers?

     So he wrapped his legs around Vergil's hips, tightening them into a vise as his strength returned, so that Vergil would stay.  And he dragged fingers up Vergil's back that only slowly shifted from blunt and human to long and taloned, shredding Vergil's vest and the back underneath until Vergil hissed in pain and delight.  He drank his own blood from Vergil's lips while Vergil groaned into his mouth like _he_ was the one who'd nearly died.  Like _he_ was the one who feared losing the other, somehow, to the subtle new challenge that Nero represented. 

     And when Vergil finally shuddered and cried out, face pressed into Dante's neck and his whole body vibrating with release, Dante smiled with sharp teeth and folded two sets of wings around him, to keep him safe and close.  He looked up at himself in the angled glass of the clock tower ceiling, at his own red, glowing eyes, and growled with satisfaction as Vergil sagged and -- very quietly, not letting Dante see -- wept against his skin.

     It was fine.  Because they needed _each other_ , see.  Even if it hurt.  _Especially when_ it hurt.  And if Nero meant to make himself a part of this -- well.  The kid was just going to have to become tough enough to bear them both.

     Dante would take care of it.  Vergil had enough to deal with, and he _was_ the uncle, after all, wasn't he?  That duty fell to him.

     In the morning, he would make Vergil lick off all this damn blood, and maybe suck him off too.  That would be fitting repayment for his selfishness.  For now, however, Dante kept him close, stroking his hair and now and again kissing his ear, his shoulder, whatever he could reach.  He could feel that Vergil was still awake, and just a little tense.  Still needing something.  But this, too, Dante could give him.

     "Mine," he whispered back.  "All mine, Verg.  No matter what."

     The tension went out of him at last.  Satisfied too, Dante kept watch until Vergil slept, and then he let himself doze -- lightly.  Ready, always, for when his family would need him.

**Author's Note:**

> (sobs) There's another one brewing in my head already. I hate it when I get like this. Can't get anything useful done 'til it's all out.


End file.
